


for a second there we'd won

by galactic_chiroptera



Category: Generator Rex
Genre: EVO Character, Platonic F/M, Slow Build, this is just the first chapter so there's not gonna be a lot of tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 09:27:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8280907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galactic_chiroptera/pseuds/galactic_chiroptera
Summary: "Even if her nose is wrinkled at him at the moment, he can appreciate her aesthetic, that’s all.
 But that’s more than slightly overpowered by the fact that she’s a royal pain in his left asscheek, and won’t shut up about how much she doesn’t want to work with him for more than five minutes."
Providence has a new agent. Rex... doesn't quite like her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> storytime: this is actually a rewrite of a fic I wrote when i was like 12, and I recently rewatched Generator Rex and i was like "h oly shi t that fic was so bad" 
> 
> so my friend was like "lmfao just rewrite it then" 
> 
> so uh. [jazzhands] enjoy
> 
> (fic title from The Killers' Miss Atomic Bomb)

_If you ask someone to tell you the history of monsters, most people will tell you that it’s “been years since the event, where the hell have you been?” To those people, “monsters” and “EVOs” are synonyms._ _  
_

_But they’re wrong. Monsters have been around since the dawn of time - there’s one in each and every one of us, waiting to be released by our own moral disregard. And sometimes, us humans are the ones you need to watch out for when you look out for your own safety._ _  
_

_EVOs are obvious in their destruction - they tear down buildings, rampage through city streets, draw the attention of Providence. Humans - they’re tricky. Intelligent, in most cases. They work in the shadows, at least the bad ones. Their destructive tendencies are rarely driven by instinct, but instead are their own sick way of sating their bloodlust and their need to royally fuck up someone’s day._ _  
_

_But that’s not the point. The point is that -_

“Are you monologuing again?” Sharp words, words that would cut. Softened by a familiar voice. The sound of an electronic beep, like a recorder cutting off.

“No, I’m just-” Cut off, embarrassed.

“You are, aren’t you?” A laugh, jovial.

A short silence. The laugh isn’t returned.

“I just don’t want you to forget again.” Quiet. Inaudible, if the room wasn’t stiflingly silent otherwise. “To forget… all this.”

A soft sigh. Pause, a shuffle like cloth shifting together, like shoulders bumping together. “We can’t control that. What’s gonna happen is gonna happen, okay? We’ll get through it. We always do.”

A huff of breath. “... Yeah. That was surprisingly sage, for you. I’m shocked.” Playful, the sound of a smile.

“Shut up, I know things. Now, come on. We’re going out for pizza.”

“You mean we’re sneaking out.”

“Bingo.”

“Don’t you _wink_ at me, smartass.”

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Let’s get one thing straight.”

The ball hits the wall rhythmically, a _tap-tap-tap_ cadence against the steady beating of Rex’s pulse. The Keep’s holding cell is deceptively quiet otherwise, with the familiar smell of ozone and polished metal tainting the air. The poster on the wall that he’d put up to try and spruce up the place is peeling on one corner, and the Trendsetters logo is faded and ripped in a few places. He focuses his attention on it anyway, in the hopes that maybe the new agent would get the message and shut up already.

No such luck.

“I don’t like this any more than you do, all right? Let’s not prolong this.”

He suppresses the urge to groan, shaking his head and catching the ball. “Hey. Kid -” he begins.

“Don’t call me that, we’re the same age,” comes the response, fired back almost immediately. By this point Rex feels he should be getting an award for eye-rolling. He’s pretty sure he’s surpassed Bobo by a long shot.

“Whatever. Okay. I get it - You don’t like me, I don’t like you, blah blah, the whole shebang. You don’t have to keep talking about it,” he says, casting a glance over to the other side of the holding cell.

He has to admit, of all the people he could have been teamed with, Providence could have saddled him with someone harder on the eyes. Taria Quayugi is a good-looking agent - he’s a guy, his eyes work.

She boasts heritage from the Ah-ni-gilo-whozit tribe, which apparently means something about long hair? And her hair is certainly long- (long, pretty, a rich dark tawny as the sun hits it right through the tiny window- wait, no. Fuck off, hormones-) even by his standards. And he knows Holiday, so that’s saying something. (Even if her nose is wrinkled at him at the moment, he can appreciate her aesthetic, that’s all.)

But that’s more than slightly overpowered by the fact that she’s a royal pain in his left asscheek, and won’t shut up about how much she doesn’t want to work with him for more than five minutes.

She swallows whatever she was going to say next and lets out a long breath through her nose, turning her gaze to look out the window again. _Ignoring him._ Okay, fine, two can play at that game. He rolls his eyes - again - and resumes bouncing the ball off the wall. The rubber catches on the poster, tugging it and ripping it a quarter of the way down. He lets out a swear, groaning.

Finally, after a few minutes of increasingly awkward silence, he stands, stretching. He feels his back pop in a couple different places - Las Vegas isn’t a long way from Providence HQ, but it’s still a long time to sit on steel benches.

“What are you doing?” Taria asks, returning her attention to him and lifting a dark eyebrow.

“We’re here.” As if it should be obvious. She looks at him like he’s just suggested kissing and making up with the EVO they’re being transported to.

“We’re supposed to wait until they open the doors for us, after we land.” Despite her words, she stands, shaking the numbness out of her legs and arms. Rex lets out a snort.

“I don’t really do the whole ‘waiting’ thing.”

He lets his hand rest against the wall, just enough contact to funnel a swarm of active nanites through the metal and tinker with the inner workings of the door. The cell bay slides open with a pneumatic _hissss_ that ends up sucked out by the roaring of the wind beyond. Far below them, an EVO that has to be at least six stories high is terrorizing the streets below with gobs of fur launching back and forth at civilians.

He looks at her, offering a wide grin. “See you down there,” he quips, then jumps.

 

 

The ride back to Providence HQ is long, quiet, and _awkward._ Across from Six and I, Rex is sandwiched between two faceless agents while Six gives him the stink-eye. The assignment had… not gone well, to say the least. I can already hear White Knight’s voice, berating us for the destruction we caused.

In my defense, at least, it was Rex that did most of the damage, trying to show off and be the star of the show, as he was apparently apt to do. If the safety harness weren’t in the way, this would be the time where I’d cross my arms over my chest and join Six in glaring at Rex. As it is, though, I ignore him, casting my attention towards the front of the jet and settling in for a long ride back to the Death Valley HQ. The agent on my right, evidently aware that he’s caught in my line of vision, seems to shift uncomfortably and pretends to fiddle with his gun.

 

 

 

“You caused not five- not ten- but _seventeen blocks_ worth of property damage!” If he weren’t constantly so washed out, this is probably the point where Knight’s face would be roughly the color of a tomato. “In _Las Vegas!”_ I can see a vein sticking out on the side of his neck, throbbing in time with his speech. (It’s actually kind of hilarious.)

“We took it down, didn’t we?” Crossing his arms, Rex stares defiantly up at Knight and seems like he’s daring him to meet his gaze. “It was level 2. We should be glad there wasn’t more damage.”

Knight seems to soften the slightest bit from steel to stone. He steeples his fingers, like he’s formulating what he’s going to say. “Rex. I understand that you’ve been… improving lately. I will admit I’ve witnessed you become more responsible and more diplomatic since… Well, since-”

“Van Kleiss became a problem,” Six supplies, and Knight nods.

“Exactly. We’ve seen your growth, but that doesn’t change the fact that you reverted right back to your old self today. Complete disregard for property, more focused on the act of fighting than the containment. You don’t have to show off with every new person you work with.

“I don’t show o-” Rex begins.

“Six, Kenwyn, Beverly, Circe-” White Knight counts off on his fingers, earning a sigh from Rex.

“Okay, okay, I get it. But I wasn’t the only one that messed stuff up!” He jerks a finger back at me. “I wasn’t the one that collapsed a high-rise!”

“Me?!” It takes all that I have not to step forward and sock him in the face. “You punched a building! And _shattered the Luxor casino!”_

He whirls on me, puffing up not unlike an enraged bird. “Well, maybe if you would have _done your job and kept him contained downtown-”_

“Oh, don’t you dare lecture me on doing my job, mister everyone-says-I-can’t-follow-directions, that thing was fifty feet tall and you expected me alone to-!”

“At least I have experience dealing with EVOs! You’re fresh out of training, all you’ve done is play with monsters on leashes!”

“Have you even ever been to _basic training?!”_

_“Yes,_ actually, I have!”

“Both of you, that’s enough!” White Knight booms, slamming his fist down on his counter. We both jump, looking back at him. “You both are to blame, not one or the other. That’s all there is to it. You’re supposed to be _working together,_ not against each other. How are we supposed to get anything done when both our best weapons are constantly at each other’s throats? You two need to get it together, you’re partners now.”

“Weapon?!” I blurt, at the same time Rex says, “Partners?”

_Is that really how Knight thinks of us? What he calls us? Holy fuck, no wonder this kid is so messed up._

“We- we-” I stammer, caught off guard. “We’re not _weapons._ EVOs, yeah, people, yes. Agents, yeah, if you want to call us that.” I see Rex look at me out of the corner of my eye, surprised that I’d defend him like this, even if it’s mostly for myself. “But we’re not weapons. We’re not teleoperated.”

“That may be so.” Knight steeples his fingers, and I want nothing more than to superglue them together so I never see that careful, calculated press again. “But you do as I say, when I say it. You follow orders. In your verbiage, you’re not _autonomous.”_

“Sir!” Holiday looks shocked, affronted. Six remains stone-faced as always, but the muscle in his jaw seems to jump once or twice.

“You’re dismissed. Both of you.” His tone doesn’t invite any argument, not that either of us seem to be up to the challenge.

Rex doesn’t even reply, just turns and storms out, slamming the door behind him. I’m about to follow, but I can’t quell the urge to have the last word. I turn, looking Knight dead in the eye. “Neither of us are your _things,”_ I snap, then spin on my heel and walk out.

 

 

 

I don’t go back to my room - HQ is the last place I want to be, at least right now. Instead I go to the hangar and find the jumpjet Providence had supplied for me for this reason in particular.

When you’re travelling twice as fast as a military jet, the space from California to Oklahoma doesn’t seem that far; I’m in my hometown in just a few hours. I touch down close to the town borders, near my small subdivision, and almost immediately I hear a child’s delighted shriek, followed by the small pitter-patter of flip-flops on the asphalt. Moments later my arms are full of squirming child, a shrill voice shrieking in my ear, “You’re back! You’re back you’re back you’re back-”

“Hi, Brooklyn,” I laugh, shifting so I can safely hold the 9-year old without dropping her. “Where are your parents?”

In a town of 7,000 that’s 95% Native American, Brooklyn and her parents stand out as one of the few white families that live here. It doesn’t phase her though, nor any of the other kids.

“Come on! Let’s go see them!” She struggles to get down until I set her on her feet, and she promptly grabs my hand and drags me along to where our houses rest side by side. My mother Ayita is on the lawn, talking to Brooklyn’s parents over the hedge separating our properties. Her dad catches sight of us and waves, which catches the attention of the other two. When my mom sees me, her face breaks into a wide grin, and I let go of Brooklyn’s tiny hand to walk into her open arms and embrace her. As soon as I do, all the stress from earlier seems to melt away and I can’t help but let out a relieved breath.

“My little girl,” she murmurs, wrapping her arms around me. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too, mama,” I whisper into her neck, resting my chin on the crook of her shoulder.

“Hi, Taria,” I hear Brooklyn’s mom greet me. Reluctantly, I pull away from my mom, and offer a wide grin.

“Hi, Emily, Richard.” I wave at both of them, containing a laugh at the way Brooklyn charges across the grass behind them towards her house, presumably to tell her brother I’m home.

“I’m gonna run in and say hi to dad,” I tell my mom, who nods and releases me. The front door is unlocked and the comforting smell of home - the herbs my mom uses in the kitchen, pine flooring, the faint scent of a recently-used vacuum, it all creates an assault on the senses that I breathe in and smile.

_“Edoda?”_ I call, peering down the hallway leading to the living room. I receive a bark in reply, followed by the skittering of claws on wood floor and excited panting, and a cut off shout of “ _gili-!”_. Autumn, my dad’s baby Aussie Shepherd, comes scrambling around the corner a second later and rams into my legs, nearly knocking me over. I laugh, reaching down to scratch behind her ears.

A few moments later my dad rounds the corner, looking about ready to scold Autumn, when he sees me. I grin, wide enough that my cheeks sting, and launch myself at him, not unlike a child. He catches me easily, his chuckle hearty and tangible in his chest. _“Awanita,_ it’s good to have you home,” he says, his voice as deep and smooth as ever. He sets me down, keeping his grip on my shoulders as he peers down at me through his glasses. “Why are you back, though? Aren’t you supposed to be at Providence?”

And just like that, all the events of that morning I’d tried to forget come rushing back. Suddenly uncomfortable meeting his gaze, I avoid his eyes and look down at where Autumn is dancing around our legs excitedly. “I… had a couple issues.” When I look back up, my dad’s face has fallen, and I immediately backtrack. “No, no, it’s nothing serious, I still have my agency - I’ve just…” I clear my throat. “I have a new partner. He doesn’t seem to like me very much.” I offer an attempt at a smile, but my father doesn’t seem to find it very reassuring. He gives a comforting one in return, reaching down to pat my hand.

“It will all work out,” he declares. The way he says it, I’ve never doubted the words he says in the past, until now.

_I’m not thinking about Salazar right now,_ I tell myself firmly, and lean in to hug my dad again. _That’s for another time._

Autumn barks, impatient and confused as to why she's not being petted  _this instant._ My dad laughs, reaching down to pat her head. "All right, all right. You can go outside. As for you..." He looks at me. "Go say hello to Joshua. He'll be excited to see you." He winks, and I just roll my eyes.

"Dad, no." 


End file.
